


i wanna be adored

by alltimecharlo



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: About as close as you can get to smut without crossing the line, Body Worship, Hair-pulling, Height Differences, Intimacy, Love Bites, M/M, Making Out, Neck Kissing, Pet Names, Possessive Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), a lot of touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 03:34:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29619966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltimecharlo/pseuds/alltimecharlo
Summary: ’i don’t need to sell my soul, he’s already in me.’-Somehow, Dream and George always seem to come crashing back together.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 447





	i wanna be adored

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the song of the same title by the stone roses 
> 
> (as well as my recent urge to write an unnecessarily long dnf hot and intimate make out session)
> 
> hope you enjoy! <3

The door closes behind them with a loud slam, but neither of them care for it in this moment, succeeding perfectly in shutting out the rest of the world and drowning themselves in each other.

There’s no breath left in George’s winded chest as Dream takes a hold of the back of his neck again, pulling him upwards into an unforgiving kiss. 

His lips are wet and already stained a swollen red; their mouths part with a loud _‘smack’_ as they’re forced to surface for breath, though George is pretty sure neither of them would mind dying in this moment right here, under the hot and heavy touch of each other, hungry fingers roaming and searching the sharp, exposed planes of their skin. 

Dream’s cheeks are flushed a deep red from exertion and he’s sure he’s in a pretty similar state, if not worse.

The light levels in his room are low, his blind already shut and blocking out the last slithers of the setting sun. If he listens closely, George can just about make out the thump of the party continuing on without them below, but his attention is definitely primarily focused elsewhere in this moment. He knows they won’t be too missed.

Dream’s skin shines shimmers of gold under the light that spills inside along the curtain’s edge. The sharp lines of his jaw are set in a square of determination and the spattering of freckles that bridge his nose is almost disappearing under a coating of light blush.

George feels mesmerised for probably the fourth time tonight before Dream’s hands are on his cheeks, then the slender frame of his shoulders, before settling around his waist and tugging their chests closer together.

When the shorter glances his lidded gaze upwards, he notices that Dream is studying him very closely; dark green drinking in the mess of his hair and the sweat slowly dripping off of his brow, making eyes like he’d quite like to lick it off of his skin.

Dream’s bottom lip is trapped under pearly teeth before he wets them again with one clean lick of his tongue. George’s eyes follow the motion and a swooping sensation in his stomach follows, dropping like he’s on a rollercoaster and teetering against his insides.

_Red hot._

That’s what Dream’s back feels like under George’s wandering touch, even through the thin and soft fabric of his cotton-white t-shirt that hugs his tanned torso in all the right places.

George tilts his head backwards, glancing up the the ceiling and the off-white shade bracketing his light, knowing exactly what he’s asking the man holding him for.

Only panted breaths fill the air as Dream indulges him, lifting his perfect lips to connect with the blank and tantalising plane of pale neck that George knows the other thinks looks so much prettier all marked up with a littering of purples and blues.

He lets his eyes slide shut as he falls into the taller’s chest more heavily, the light and wet sensation of hot lips against his skin immediately removing all rigid stature from his bones.

_He knows._

He knows his pants sound whimpered and pathetic, but he loves it. He especially loves how it seems to ignite Dream to pull his body closer against his and introduce his teeth to the skin of his neck.

This could be the edge of heaven, for all George knows, or maybe the edge of hell, considering the sinful sounds and words they both keep mumbling under their breath.

The lips against his skin halt momentarily when they reach the collar of his shirt, low-cut enough that Dream’s able to sample the delicacy of his protruding collarbones and the upper parts of his chest, refusing to spare them from the mercilessness of his mouth and teeth.

George’s voice is breathy and broken as he speaks, barely a whisper, “ _... Dream-?_ ”

His question is cut off, however, by the reunion of their mouths, lips sliding together and smothering any word that George may have wished to utter out into the heat of the night.

Dream’s tongue enters his mouth again, for the first time since they left everyone else drunk-dancing in the living room. George takes a passive role immediately, letting the taller lick into his mouth and quench his thirst.

Across the soft material, George travels his hands until they reach the slither of heated skin exposed between Dream’s shirt and tight black jeans.

The cold tips of his fingers run freely against his bare skin, venturing to the sides of his waist and back again and tripping up and down the bumps of his spine causing Dream to jolt and let out a breathless moan that George doesn’t believe belongs on this Earth. 

In return, one of the taller’s large hands weaves its way up to cover the red flesh of one of George’s cheeks, thumb lightly brushing and purposefully catching the edge of his lips before Dream brings his mouth away, just enough to set a visible distance between them.

His thumb applies more pressure into the shorter’s upper lip, rubbing against it to expose the wet underside, and George knows that he looks absolutely wrecked staring up helplessly at the other like this. 

Dream trails his thumb slowly across the red stain of his mouth, swiping it around one curved, oval edge until it reaches his bottom lip, where he runs it back and forth both tantalisingly and gently.

Staring up at him with hooded eyes and heavy lashes, George can’t break his eyes away from Dream’s dark and wondrous gaze looking down at him from his height, studying the trail of his thumb and the shape of George’s lips like it’s the most enchanting sight he’ll ever get to see.

George decides he can’t take it any longer when he pushes his mouth more firmly against Dream’s thumb in some caricature of a kiss. 

He watches and waits as he sees Dream’s concentrated and parted pink lips pull up at one side in a confident smirk. Sparks fly to George’s stomach, igniting something further and deeper inside of him that he didn’t even know resided there.

He knows what’s coming when Dream slides his thumb past his lips and rests one of his large index fingers on the redness of his lips. 

George takes it into the wetness of his mouth without complaint, licking with his tongue, sucking with his lips, mind clouded over with lust and images that have been choking up his brain since the moment Dream waltzed into the party looking like _that_ : dirty-blond hair fashionably tousled and looking like it was fashioned by God himself to be tugged on by George’s hands.

Their connected gaze doesn’t break as he brings up his tongue against Dream’s finger, licking and creating perfect suction in the well-practiced way he knows all too well by now. 

The bright, blazing flare of the taller’s gaze feeds the embers licking in his belly, evergreen eyes engulfed in a forest of fire.

Dream’s thumb hooks under his chin and aids in tilting George’s head even further back, pulling out his finger slightly, only to graze around the outskirts of his swollen lips once more. 

George can feel the light pressure it gives on his skin of his neck, but also on the tender softness of the most vulnerable parts of his throat.

“You like that?”

Dream must see the flash in his eyes because, before he knows it, the large hand cupping his face is vanished altogether, leaving George’s head to drop forwards onto the firmness of the taller’s chest, huffing out panted breaths that fall at a similar pace to his racing heart.

“Dream... _nngh_ -“

Is about all he can manage to murmur until large hands are skirting the sensitive sides of his waist again, playing mockingly with the hem of his grey t-shirt and grazing his hot skin underneath.

“Mmm?”

Dream’s response is low and patient, _cocky_. 

George doesn’t have to look up from his chest to know that he’s smirking down at him as he moans and whimpers under the slightest touch. 

It’s been too long.

“ _Dream... please_.”

George doesn’t quite know what he’s asking for, but he wants anything the taller will give him. 

Everything, if he wants it too.

There’s movement as Dream leans downwards to land his forehead against George’s, eyes closed as he simply breathes for a second; George uses the opportunity to capture an image he’ll treasure forever of fluttering, dark lashes against golden skin.

His own hands are still plush against Dream’s muscled back, tracing each and every dip and crater he finds, travelling upwards under the fabric until he’s gripping tightly onto his shoulder blades, purposefully digging in the bluntness of his nails.

The taller’s eyes open again then. George is already watching him, waiting for a reaction and anticipating it with the welling sensation in his heart, pushing against his lungs like it just might burst.

A hint of a mischievous grin pulls at the edge of George’s cheek as he slides his hands out from under the warmth of the material and watches the darkening of Dream’s expression that conveys his displeasure at their removal.

He leans upwards and slides his arms carefully around the taller’s neck, not missing the glint in Dream’s eyes that tells him he loves the fact that he has to stand on his _tippy-toes_ to do so.

Dream’s dirty-blond hair is soft to touch; George bunches his fingers in the long strands as he tugs the other’s mouth back onto his own, feeling it fall pliant and lax as their lips slide together, a delectable mess.

They switch angles as Dream moves his hands again, grasping either sides of George’s slender waist securely and dipping down to the indents of his hips when the shorter quickly catches on to what he wants to do.

He breathes heavily into the kiss as he uses all his remaining energy and effort to jump up, Dream’s hands already ready to catch the back of his thighs as his legs swing round to latch around his hips.

Bodies perfectly aligned, the heat engulfing the both of them seems to increase tenfold, blood running molten underneath their sweat-stained skin.

George feels Dream squeeze both of his hands into the flesh of his thighs and is suddenly grateful for his choice of jeans tonight as he’s sure skin-on-skin contact would have wiped him out altogether, judging by the soft groan that involuntarily passes his lips.

Dream’s abdomen is muscled and firm against George as he feels himself be shifted slightly in the taller’s grasp in order to tease him with the electrifying stimulation it provides.

“ _Ah... mmm_ -“

Each and every little noise George ends up emitting soon becomes swallowed by Dream’s insatiable tongue, as he searches for and soon finds his wanton lips. George hums into the other’s mouth eagerly, drinking in his taste and allowing it to settle and linger on his lips. 

He doesn’t even realise they’re moving through the room until Dream pulls his lips away from him to check the location of the bed behind him. 

George still can’t quite get over the fact that Dream is so bloody _strong_ ; he can lift him up and wrap him around his broad body in any way he wishes. He moves so effortlessly that George is cast into thinking about how easy it would be for Dream to hold him down. 

The blond can be gentle, when he wants and when George asks for it, but most of the time the both of them are desperate for so much more.

Once situated just in front of the end of the bed, Dream’s already back to kissing him, lips unrelenting, hot and sickeningly sweet under his own. 

The blond’s large hands are keeping his lower body pressed agonisingly close against his abdomen, so close that if he moves his hips just one inch he may just die and fall apart on the spot.

Weaving his wandering hands upwards, George grins into the smothering of his mouth as he takes the opportunity to tangle his hands in the taller’s wavy locks and tug on them.

Dream’s breath hitches, his lips pausing as he quickly lifts his eyelids to scrutinise George’s smug face with a dark gaze that is simultaneously asking and threatening him to try that again.

George knows he’s pushing his luck as he copies his earlier movement once more, this time rearranging his grip to tug Dream’s head slightly up and backwards, so that he’s left staring up at George above him and his hazy, smirked grin. 

Their lips are barely parted, trading fires as bright and blazing as ever. Dream glances upwards, closely studying George, his heavy gaze transfixed and controlled by the other, smaller hands still twisted in his soft strands.

Because Dream is watching him so intensely, George is caught off-guard when he finally seats them on the edge of the bed, landing the shorter perfectly in his lap, slotting his smaller frame tightly against him and running his steadfast hands up the expanse of his back, sneaking cunningly underneath the fabric of his t-shirt.

George takes in an ungodly gasp for air as Dream grazes his sides then moves up to his shoulder blades and traces the protrusions poking out under pale skin, the bones a burning remnant of fallen angels, pitifully stripped of their wings. 

He continues throwing all caution to the wind as he lightly bites at Dream’s lip before travelling downwards and refusing to spare the taller’s perfect jaw from the same treatment.

Enthusiastically, he nibbles and bites at the skin there, leading downwards onto his tanned and glistening neck, hands finally brought to the front of Dream’s chest now that he’s able to balance himself on the other’s thighs.

George traces the outlines of his toned torso under the tightness of his shirt but then soon decides it’s not enough, tugging at the collar earnestly and failing to formulate the right words as his mouth is occupied with Dream’s tongue.

The younger catches on quickly, pulling away as briefly as possible to tug the white material over his head and banish it to the opposite side of the room where George hears it land with a light ‘thud’.

His thighs are trembling either side of Dream’s legs as he brackets them, his own forced to be spread apart as he shifts backwards from his position slightly to allow his eyes the space they need to drink in the sight before him.

George has seen it a million times before but that doesn’t stop him the breath being knocked from his lungs at the picture Dream paints: skin glowing golden under the dim light the room allows in, toned and bare chest heaving heavily up and down as he attempts to recapture allusive breath, the _sinful_ dark gaze he provides George as he digests each and every new piece of information leisurely.

When Dream touches the front of his own chest under his shirt, George gives in to his urges and uses all of his mustered strength to throw the taller back against the mattress. 

Leaving him seated on top of the other’s thighs, George shuffles forwards slightly to aid his reach, trying desperately not to think about the stimulation building in the pit of his stomach and the delicious noise Dream hisses out as he places his palms against his naked, hot skin.

There’s an intoxicating pressure as their bodies align together, George only adds to it as he makes use of all his fingers to trace the carved lines of Dream’s chest, pausing to brush purposefully over the more sensitive areas and engulf them into his mouth just to hear Dream gasp for air, unraveled.

George likes knowing _he_ does that to him.

Dream’s free hands soon find his waist, bunching the grey material of his t-shirt upwards as he traces the lines of the body sitting on top of him. 

As the taller casts his head backwards, emitting a breathy moan at the movements of a hot mouth against his sensitive skin, George finds the temptation to leave similar bites to those left on his own skin on Dream’s tanned neck and promptly gives in.

The large hands encircling his hips dig in deeper as he paints Dream’s lower neck and collarbones with red bites he knows will soon purple and bruise over. A secret shared only between themselves.

He connects their dark gazes when he comes back up for a breath of air, leaning his body further over Dream to capture his mouth again in a messy kiss. 

George can see him studying the likely bruised and troubled expanse of his own neck; he’s sure Dream has left his own marks much higher than he has on the other’s skin. 

He’s possessive like that.

There’s a light glaze of sweat on Dream’s brow as George lets them simply pant against each other for a couple of seconds. He feels his own clothes stick to his skin and so pulls the grey material over his head haphazardly, exposing his chest to the cooler, open air.

“ _George..._.”

He glances back down at Dream and immediately knows what he’s staring at so intensely: the faint and faded, yet still clearly visible, trail of bites and bruises the taller had left across his chest, winding all the way down to the waistband of his jeans the last time they did this.

Dream’s fingers don’t have to travel far to land over one of the marks and push into the flesh there lightly, just enough to make George hiss pleasantly at the tenderness that erupts across his skin.

All George registers is a flurry of movement, the bed being swiped out from under him, before his back is landing heavily against the coolness of the sheets and Dream is rolling on top of him, body still situated between his bracketed thighs.

There’s lips against his own as he attempts to force breath into his lungs, muttering quietly against his as he feels Dream’s firm hands skim against his chest.

“George... _baby_...” He’s mumbling over and over again, “You’re so—“

He never gets to find out because Dream’s tongue is pressed against the paleness of skin again, teeth biting down and reforming old marks and making new ones to accompany them. 

George knows he likes having them there. Having them show that he is _his_.

Weakly, his own hands reach to grip onto the muscle of Dream’s shoulders, or maybe to wrap around his neck and tangle in his hair again, but the taller is grasping each of his respective wrists in either of his hands before he can do anything.

He resists feebly as they are pinned into the pillows above him and then shifted easily into one big hand before Dream is leaning back above him and giving him a smirk. 

“ _Baby_... you want me?”

George doesn’t think he’s ever been more attracted to anyone in his life than in this moment.

His chest feels pleasantly tight as he arches his back and attempts to thrust upwards against Dream’s body. George is only met with a light tut from the other alongside his heavy gaze.

“Darling, d’you _need_ me?”

Pitiful whimpers pass George’s lips before he can even make room in his head to think. His only audible response comes in the form of a hushed and whispered, “ _Yes_ ,”

The grip around his wrists tightens as George watches green eyes simmer with his words.

“ _P-please_ , Dream... need you—”

He falters as the other manages to coordinate his free hand to unzip George’s fly and shimmy his dark jeans down his thighs. 

George pushes against where he’s being held down, eager to move himself and align Dream’s teasing palms where he desperately wants them right now, but his wrists are merely pressed more firmly into the pillows above his head. 

A large hand skims across the hot skin of his thighs, venturing towards their insides and gripping into the pale flesh there that gleams under the light at the right angle. 

George’s breath clogs up his throat as he does the only thing he’s capable of in this moment and thrashes his head to the side as Dream breathes more heavily above him, emitting helpless gasps.

“D- Dream, please,” Their eyes connect again as said man finally looks up from the palm that’s splayed across his thighs, “I wanna touch you, kiss you, _please_.”

He sees the shift in Dream’s eyes; the moment that he decides he wants the same and frees George’s wrists, allowing his hands to hurriedly crawl up toned arms and bring their mouths back together in a passionate kiss.

Dream’s hand doesn’t stop moving against the skin of his thigh, brushing up against the fabric of his boxers and skimming under the edge. George’s gasps into the other’s mouth are swallowed whole and replaced with the lick of his tongue and the bite of his teeth.

George doesn’t even realise his back has been arching off of the bed until the taller brings his free hand to push his chest back down and cages him in more closely with his larger stature, all the while refusing to part from his red and swollen lips.

When he finally does move away, George doesn’t let him do so without protesting and needy whine, yet it’s soon cut off into a gasp as Dream begins kissing his way down his pale chest, then skipping over the tight fabric of his boxers before pressing his lips against the hot skin of his thigh.

Frustrated and large hands work to rid him of his jeans entirely this time, casting them forcefully to the floor before running his dexterous fingers along the top of both of George’s thighs in a tantalising motion, then he spreads them apart.

He follows the taller’s movements with his shaky hands, eventually catching up enough to weave his fingers into the dampness of Dream’s hair and grip tightly into it.

George’s innate instinct is to bring his legs inwards to shut them again, and _God_ , does he try, but Dream’s grip into the pale flesh is too strong and successfully restrictive.

From this angle, George just about manages to catch a glimpse of his smirk before Dream is dipping his head to bring his hot lips to the insides of his thighs, placing wet kisses and bites into the unmarked skin.

In reaction, George only fists his hands into Dream’s golden locks more tightly, but he’s not sure if he’s trying to get him to move away or frantically urging him to go on. He can feel Dream’s grin against his tender skin before he turns his head and mirrors his actions on the flesh on the opposite side, leaving no square inch untouched.

“So good, baby. You’re so _needy_.” George barely manages to catch Dream mumbling against his skin before he’s licking over a sharp bite with his tongue, “For me, only for me.”

This, alongside the knowledge of all the purple and red marks now darkening, scattered across his skin, makes George feel _claimed_. 

But not only that: loved, branded, worshipped... _adored_.

He slips his eyelids shut for a second and lets himself sink into the plush mattress, lets himself really feel the springs and feathers supporting him as Dream trails his tongue back up from his thighs and eventually reaches his open mouth again.

George runs his hands through Dream’s hair once again as he pulls him in closer, crowded in by the hand the taller is now leaning on above his head.

“For you.”

He repeats, pulling Dream back slightly to mumble against his lips, looking up at him under his lidded gaze and finding emerald green eyes watching him closely.

“Wanna make you feel good, baby. You want that?”

“ _I want it_ ,” George replies swiftly and without coherent thought, the words rushing out of him in one breath that is interpreted only by another firm press of Dream’s hot and tender lips, “I want it so bad... _ah_ , Dreeeeam—”

His ramblings are cut off by an intentional brush of Dream’s large hand, shooting electricity up and down the conducting rod of his spine. 

When he returns to his conscious mind, George finally registers the hand resting against his cheek, keeping their eyes aligned as Dream presses another prolonged kiss to his lips before speaking.

“I’ve been waiting to do this all night,” 

Dream’s watching him with a dark gaze, brushing his thumb up and down the curve of George’s jaw; his ear to his chin, nothing is spared.

“Kiss you until you can’t breathe... mark you up so bad you can’t forget about this tomorrow and are forced to think about me every time you look in the mirror.”

His thumb is back against George’s slick and swollen lips, skimming their plumpness. George is transfixed, hypnotised, under the devious glint in his eyes. Like Dream has reached between his ribs and stolen his soul.

Then he thinks again, turning back on himself as Dream recaptures his reddened lips in an alluring kiss.

The man above him, trapping George in with the larger span of his shoulders and mapping out each and every inch of his exposed skin, has been holding his heart in his hands for a long time already.

 _There’s no turning back now_ , George thinks as he bites onto Dream’s bottom lip.

Not that he’d ever want to.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> kudos and comments are greatly appreciated ♡
> 
> i’m [ @dreamingogy](https://mobile.twitter.com/dreamingogy) on twitter if you want writing updates or just to say hi!


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